The Stark Family Home, North Concord, New Hampshire

Third week of April

After her info-seeking mission with Bronn, Sansa felt armed as needed with the details she'd lacked. She was relieved there was still some time to make plans before his birthday. It fell on a Saturday, which she felt would be perfect.

If Bronn's insight about Sandor's aversion to attention were correct, a big blow-out or surprise 'do would likely be less than appreciated. Sansa decided on a casual cook-out at her parents' home. The temperature would be warm enough to spend most of the event outside, the event casual enough not to alarm anyone who hated to dress up, and the venue big enough to fit everyone inside should the weather take a turn for the damp.

There would be pie for dessert— no cake, and therefore no singing at him. She wanted to celebrate his birthday, not torment him. But she could still get him a present, and the best present she could imagine was helping him see his sister again.

Sandor hadn't seen Annalise in over three years, just after he left the service and opened the gym with Bronn. Sansa felt it was long past time to correct this grievous oversight, preferably as a surprise presentation.

But first she had to make contact with Annalise.

Sansa went about it with as much subtlety as she was capable of, first getting Sandor's sister's married last name out of him, and a few days later, the town she lived in: Lawrence, Kansas. From there, it was the work of just a few minutes' Internet search to find Annalise's FaceSpace page. She agonized over what to say in the private message for a long time, and finally settled on the bare-bones truth.

Dear Annalise,

I've been fortunate enough to date your brother Sandor for six months, and since his 34th birthday is coming up, I wanted to give him a small party in celebration. I thought it would be nice to surprise him by having you there. I know you haven't seen each other for several years.

Since I'm the one inviting you to come all the way to New Hampshire from Kansas, please know that I would undertake any costs involved in travel and accommodation.

If you'd like to phone me to discuss it further, I'd be so happy to hear from you! Please call me at any time at 603-224-4485.

Sincerely,

Sansa Stark

Then she waited.

And waited.

And then, just two weeks before Sandor's birthday, Sansa's phone rang just as she was coming out of her singing lesson.

Call from unknown number in Lawrence, Kansas, said the phone's flat robotic voice. With a gasp, Sansa scrambled to unearth it from her tote bag, dropping Lady's harness and her cane in her haste.

Please don't hang up, she chanted in her head. She flipped open the phone at the speed of light. "Hello?"

"…Sansa Stark?" The woman's voice was hesitant.

"Yes, it's Sansa."

"This is Annalise Menday."

"I'm so glad you called!" Sansa gushed. She groped for the chair she knew was nearby, and dropped into it. "I was beginning to worry we wouldn't have enough time to arrange things. If you wanted to come, that is." She gulped. "No pressure."

Annalise chuckled, and it was so like Sandor's raspy low laugh that Sansa was startled. "Yeah, no pressure."

Sansa had heard that same sarcasm every day of her life since she'd first touched Sandor's face. She smiled. "I can tell where he gets his sense of humor from, already."

"Yeah, all we had was each other for most of our lives," said Annalise. Then, hesitantly, "Has… has he told you? About… things?"

Sansa knew just what she meant.

"Yes," she said softly. "I know all about everything— your parents, and Gregor. And I know how you raised him, even though you were so young yourself." Her heart felt like it was cracking in two, just thinking about it. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time… you did such a good job, Annalise."

She heard Annalise's sudden, indrawn breath. "Sansa…"

Tears started trickling down Sansa's face, absently swiped away. "In spite of everything… he's wonderful. He's so strong and smart and funny and hard-working and honest and reliable and sweet and thoughtful and generous and—"

"Whoa, whoa." Annalise's voice was thick with unshed tears even as she laughed. "We are talking about my brother, right? Sandor? Sandor Clegane? Big son of a bitch, surly most of the time, weirdly fond of dogs?"

"That's him," Sansa said, sniffling and laughing. "So I just wanted to thank you. For raising him to be such a good man. I know he must have put you through hell, especially as a teenager—"

"You don't know the half of it," Annalise grumbled, but good-naturedly.

"—but I wanted to let you know, Annalise, that I'm going to take care of him now. I promise."

"Well, shit," Annalise choked out, and then she began crying. That set Sansa off for good, and she began weeping in earnest.

"What the fuck are you doing, little bird?" His big warm hand took the phone from her.

She gasped. "Sandor! What are you doing here?"

"You were late coming downstairs for lunch so I got to wondering about the delay." He put the phone to his ear, pulling a clean (if crumpled) tissue from his pocket and putting it in Sansa's hand. "Annalise?"

"Sandor, I swear to fucking god, if you don't propose to that woman right now, I will come to New Hampshire and beat you unconscious."

He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it, as if he could see his sister through it, then switched focus to Sansa. She was mopping her face dry, nose and eyes reddened from crying. She looked, somehow, more beautiful than ever.

When Sansa hadn't appeared on the sidewalk as was customary, he felt a pang of concern and took the steps three at a time to see what was keeping her, leaving the stairwell just in time for her to to mention his hopefully-roasting-in-hell brother.

What had come next hadn't made much sense, until suddenly it did. She was talking to his sister.

Somehow, resourceful little Sansa had found a way to contact Annalise, and she was saying the most extraordinary things, things which made his heart pound hard enough to fight its way out of his ribcage. His thoughts were a chaotic jumble, nothing but You are amazing I love you don't ever leave me I'll die over and over, until Sansa began sobbing, and finally he was able to move and speak again.

And now he was on the phone with his sister.

"How much did you hear?" Annalise was demanding, her voice tinny. He clapped the phone to his ear once more.

"Everything after she said something about Gregor."

Sansa 'looked' up at him then. "You heard all of that?" Her cheeks reddened to match the rest of her.

Sandor was frankly feeling overwhelmed by emotions he tried pretty hard to suppress on a regular basis- shock, amazement, embarrassment, shyness- to have been discussed by the two most important women in his life, and in such a complimentary way. Satisfaction, to hear how highly Sansa thought of him. And, perversely, pride in her, that he could present his sister with such a woman as his girlfriend.

Girlfriend… or perhaps…?

He'd been thinking about it for a while. Months. It had crept upon him; first, deep reluctance to part from her on those nights she spent at her parents' house, and then the desire to share a home with her, to pass all the little mundane moments of life together. Then had come the rather shocking desire to be with her as she aged, to witness the twists and turns of her life as she progressed through it, and imaginings of Sansa at middle age, then elderly, with white hair but the same sweet smile and blue, blue eyes.

It was when the imaginings began to feature children that were clearly a mix of his and her characteristics that he knew. He didn't just want to spend his life with Sansa, he wanted to create a life with her, a family that was him and her and the little souls fortunate enough to have her for a mother.

(He had his doubts about how lucky they'd be to have him for a father.)

"Do it now, Sandor. Ask her right now. Put this on speaker phone. I want to hear it."

Annalise's voice was a whip-crack of command, and normally Sandor would have felt entirely free to ignore it (and tell her to go fuck herself… lovingly, of course) but at that moment he was feeling… kind of floaty. A little dizzy, if he were being honest, on an emotional high the likes of which he'd never before experienced.

Well, maybe he'd experienced it when he and Sansa had sex. They had really good sex together. That was another thing he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing.

Sandor glanced around the waiting room. There was no one in the vocal coach's waiting room besides them and Lady, and she wasn't talking.

He pressed the button to activate the speaker phone.

"Sansa."

She gave a long, disgusting sniffle. "Sorry," she said, rueful. "I'm all clogged up."

He had to laugh. "I don't care about that." He gave Lady a gentle push out of the way and knelt on the floor at her master's feet. "Sansa, what was all that about?"

She reached out; with her sitting and him kneeling, they were just about the same height. He took her hand and helped her place it on his cheek. "I just really love you, is all. It sort of overcame me, I guess."

"I love you, too," he whispered, acutely aware of his sister listening in and feeling none too comfortable with it. "It overcomes me all the time, but you don't see me blubbering about it."

"That's because you're emotionally stunted." She gave him a watery smile and tucked the tissue into her tote bag.

It was an old, playful jibe she liked to say about the entirely appropriate amount of stoicism and composure that he displayed, and which she seemed to lack rightful appreciation for.

"I guess you'll have to unstunt me, then."

She nodded. "I'd planned on it, actually."

"Might take a while."

"I'm aware of that." She flexed a (still puny, in spite of their weekly workouts) bicep and hiccuped, "I think I'm up to the challenge."

"Even if it takes the rest of our lives?"

Sansa seemed to stop breathing. Her hand on his cheek was trembling. Doubtless she had some idea what was coming.

"Even then," she whispered.

"In that case…" Sandor swallowed hard, and plowed on. "I don't have a ring on me right now, little bird, but if you're serious about that rest-of-our-lives thing, will you marry me?"

She 'stared' at him, frozen, for an endless moment. He started worrying, thinking perhaps he (and Annalise) had misread something terribly wrong. Finally, blessedly, she opened her mouth.

"Yes, please," she said, very politely. Always mindful of her courtesies, was Sansa.

"Thank you," said Sandor with equal civility.

"Fuck, yeah!" hooted Annalise from the speaker phone, making them both jump, having forgotten she was there for a moment. She was bawling, over there in Kansas.

"Ann, we'll call you back," Sandor told her, and hung up. Then he pulled Sansa into his arms and kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.

"Thank you," he said again, when they came up for air. "For marrying me, for telling Annalise all those… nice things." God, he was shit at this.

"It's been entirely my pleasure," was her response. She dropped kisses all over his face, as she liked to do. "You are far more wonderful than you realize. I'm so lucky to have you."

Yet again, he wondered if she'd suffered brain damage as well as blindness. He was just thankful for whatever made her insensible to his myriad faults to the point of mistaking herself as lucky, when it was he who was the fortunate one.

"We should go celebrate," she was saying.

"I like the sound of that." He stood and pulled Sansa to her feet.

"Let's invite everyone to your place for dinner, and tell them then! Oooh, let's have a party! There's time to make arrangements, we can even have the café cater it. Let's go talk to Hot Pie right now—"

"…I was thinking more about having lots of sex, actually."

She looked crestfallen, then determined.

"Compromise is a necessary part of married life," she said slowly, her tone a harbinger for hard times in the future. Wow, she was starting already. He couldn't decide if it were funny or not.

"Yeeeeeeeesss…" he replied, just as slowly.

"So how about we call everyone to come by tonight, go have lunch, talk to Hot Pie, go to your apartment, have lots of sex for a few hours until dinner time, and then the party?"

Wait. She actually meant that compromise shit? As in, they'd both get to have their way, and not just her?

"Sandor?"

He realized he'd been staring at her in shocked silence for too long.

"Yes," was what he actually said, very faintly. "That's… doable. Definitely. Let's get started."

And the litany of You are amazing I love you don't ever leave me I'll die started revolving through his head once more.